Chapter 6 — The Woman Behind Jessica
Chapter 6 — The Woman Behind Jessica
Jessica called me at 7:03 the next morning.
I almost didn't answer.
Her name had appeared on my screen three times before I finally picked up.
“Cassidy.”
Her voice was trembling.
Not angry.
Not arrogant.
Afraid.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I need to see you.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“Please.”
I looked across the breakfast table.
Arthur was reading a report.
Nathan stood near the window.
Neither of them spoke.
I lowered my voice.
“Why?”
Jessica swallowed.
“Because I know who Brendan was working for.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Come to Bennett Tower.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because they're watching me.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
“Jessica.”
A whisper came through the phone.
“The woman behind everything.”
Then the call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Arthur looked up.
“Who was that?”
“Jessica.”
His expression hardened.
“What did she want?”
I placed the phone on the table.
“She says she knows who Brendan was working for.”
Nathan immediately stopped typing.
Arthur stood.
“Where is she?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
“Then don't meet her.”
I looked at him.
“You said we needed the truth.”
“We do.”
“Then why are you afraid of it?”
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
“Because people who know too much don't usually make phone calls like that unless they're desperate.”
I picked up my coat.
“Exactly.”
The Woman in the Black Coat
Jessica arrived forty minutes later.
She didn't come through the main entrance.
She entered through the underground parking garage wearing a black coat, sunglasses, and a baseball cap pulled low over her face.
When the elevator doors opened, she looked like a completely different woman.
Not the polished socialite who had once sat beside Brendan at charity dinners.
Not the woman who had laughed when I walked into a room.
Not the woman who had once called me “sweetheart” while trying to convince Brendan that I was too fragile to handle his business affairs.
This Jessica looked exhausted.
She had lost weight.
Her makeup was gone.
There was a bruise near her wrist.
I noticed it immediately.
“So,” I said quietly.
“You're afraid.”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Of whom?”
She closed the door behind her.
“Before I answer that, you need to promise me something.”
“I don't promise strangers.”
She almost smiled.
“You used to call me a stranger.”
“I still do.”
“Fair enough.”
She sat.
“I need protection.”
Arthur entered the room.
Jessica's face changed.
“You.”
Arthur stopped.
“You know me?”
She stared at him.
“More than you think.”
Arthur said nothing.
Jessica turned back toward me.
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“Brendan.”
My jaw tightened.
“He never loved me.”
Jessica looked down.
“No.”
“Then why were you with him?”
“Because I thought I was using him.”
I waited.
She laughed bitterly.
“I was wrong.”
Jessica's Version
Jessica met Brendan four years earlier.
At least, that was the story she had told everyone.
She claimed they met at a charity auction.
The truth was different.
“He approached me.”
“Where?”
“At the Hamilton Club.”
“Why?”
“He knew I worked in private wealth management.”
I frowned.
“What did he want?”
“Information.”
“What kind?”
“About you.”
My stomach tightened.
Jessica continued.
“He wanted to know how wealthy you were.”
I stared at her.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't know.”
“Then what happened?”
“He kept asking.”
“About my assets?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Every week.”
I looked at Arthur.
He remained silent.
Jessica rubbed her hands together.
“He told me you were impossible to read.”
I almost smiled.
“That's one thing he got right.”
“He said you never discussed your family.”
“That was intentional.”
“He wanted me to find out.”
“And you did?”
Jessica shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why stay?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because someone else paid me.”
The room became silent.
I leaned forward.
“Who?”
Jessica looked toward the window.
“A woman.”
“What woman?”
“I never saw her face.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“She paid you without meeting you?”
“Through an intermediary.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
I stared at her.
Jessica reached into her bag.
Then she placed a small black notebook on the table.
“This is why I'm here.”
I opened it.
Inside were dates.
Payments.
Names.
Addresses.
And one repeated phrase.
Project Glasshouse.
I looked up.
“What is this?”
Jessica whispered:
“That was the operation.”
“What operation?”
“The operation designed to control you.”
Project Glasshouse
Jessica explained everything she knew.
Project Glasshouse had begun before my wedding.
Its purpose was simple.
Find out everything about Cassidy Hart.
Find her weaknesses.
Find her relationships.
Find the people she trusted.
Then place someone inside her life.
That person had been Brendan.
Jessica had been assigned a different role.
She was supposed to become his distraction.
His excuse.
His weapon.
Whenever Brendan needed to make me jealous, Jessica appeared.
Whenever he needed me to feel replaceable, she was there.
Whenever he needed to hide a financial transaction, she provided a reason for his absence.
I stared at her.
“So you were part of it.”
“Yes.”
“You hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he was married.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he was trying to take my company.”
Jessica nodded.
“I did.”
“Then why should I believe you now?”
“Because I stopped getting paid.”
“By whom?”
“The woman.”
I looked at the notebook.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Why?”
Jessica's eyes filled with fear.
“Because she thought Brendan had failed.”
“Failed at what?”
“Making you sign.”
My pulse quickened.
“So she replaced the strategy.”
Jessica nodded.
“With what?”
“Fear.”
The Second Woman
Jessica leaned closer.
“She told Brendan that if you wouldn't sign willingly, they would make you afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Losing your baby.”
My entire body went cold.
Arthur stepped forward.
“What did you just say?”
Jessica looked at him.
“The plan changed when they learned Cassidy was pregnant.”
“When did they learn?”
“Three months ago.”
I stared at her.
“Who knew?”
“Brendan.”
“Diane?”
“Yes.”
“Gregory?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
Jessica hesitated.
“Someone from the medical side.”
I felt sick.
“What medical side?”
“A private clinic.”
“What clinic?”
“I don't know the name.”
“Jessica.”
“I swear.”
She pulled another paper from her bag.
“There.”
I took it.
It was a payment receipt.
A private medical consultancy.
The amount was enormous.
The recipient was a doctor I recognized.
My obstetrician.
I couldn't breathe.
Arthur took the document.
“This could be fabricated.”
Jessica shook her head.
“No.”
“Why are you certain?”
“Because I delivered the payment.”
I looked at her.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they needed someone outside the family.”
I stared at the receipt.
My doctor.
My pregnancy.
My baby.
Everything suddenly felt unsafe.
“Did he hurt me?”
Jessica shook her head quickly.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“He gave them information.”
“What information?”
“Your medical schedule.”
My hand went to my stomach.
Arthur immediately moved closer.
“Cassidy.”
I shook my head.
“I'm fine.”
I wasn't.
Not anymore.
The Woman's Name
I looked at Jessica.
“You said you never saw her face.”
“Yes.”
“But you know who she is.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I heard her name.”
“Who?”
Jessica's lips trembled.
Then she said:
“Eleanor Hart.”
I stopped breathing.
My mother's name.
Again.
I stared at her.
“Say that again.”
“Eleanor Hart.”
“That can't be.”
“She is the woman behind Project Glasshouse.”
“No.”
“Cassidy—”
“My mother is dead.”
Jessica looked at me.
“She isn't.”
The words echoed through the room.
Arthur's face became unreadable.
I turned toward him.
“Did you know?”
He didn't answer.
That silence was enough.
“Arthur.”
He closed his eyes.
“Not everything.”
“Did you know my mother was alive?”
“Yes.”
The room spun.
I stepped backward.
“You lied to me.”
“I was protecting you.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Six years.”
I stared at him.
Six years.
Six years since my mother supposedly died.
Six years since Arthur had known she was alive.
Six years since Brendan had entered my life.
My voice became barely audible.
“Why?”
Arthur looked at me.
“Because your mother asked me to.”
“Why would she ask you to hide her from me?”
“Because she believed you would be killed if you knew.”
“By whom?”
Arthur's eyes shifted toward Jessica.
Jessica whispered:
“Her.”
Eleanor Hart
My mother had been alive.
For twenty years.
Not merely alive.
Watching.
Planning.
Manipulating.
And somehow, she had been involved in the same operation that destroyed my marriage.
I couldn't understand it.
“She wanted my company.”
Jessica nodded.
“She wanted control.”
“Why?”
“Because she believes it belongs to her.”
“Why?”
Jessica opened the notebook.
“There is another name.”
She pointed to the final page.
Richard Vale.
I stared at it.
“What does my mother have to do with Richard?”
Jessica whispered:
“She loved him.”
The room went silent.
Arthur looked away.
I felt the pieces fall into place.
Eleanor Hart.
Richard Vale.
My father.
Gregory.
Diane.
Brendan.
The company.
The forged documents.
The hidden accounts.
Twenty years of lies.
But one question remained.
“Why would my mother want to destroy me?”
Jessica shook her head.
“She doesn't hate you.”
“Then why?”
“She believes she is saving you.”
“From what?”
Jessica looked directly into my eyes.
“Your father.”
The Letter
That afternoon, Jessica left under security escort.
Before she went, she gave me one final item.
An envelope.
“My employer told me to destroy this.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Eleanor.”
My heart tightened.
“Why didn't you destroy it?”
Jessica looked at me.
“Because I realized I was working for the wrong person.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
But the first sentence made my knees weak.
Cassidy,
If you are reading this, then Jessica has finally chosen you over me.
I read on.
You will hate me.
You should.
But before you judge me, understand that everything I did was because your father lied to both of us.
My hands shook.
He told you I was dead.
He told you Richard Vale died in an accident.
He told you Bennett Holdings was built honestly.
None of those things are true.
I stopped.
Arthur stood behind me.
“Keep reading.”
I looked at him.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
I returned to the letter.
Your father did not kill Richard.
But he allowed him to die.
My breath caught.
And he allowed me to disappear.
The next line was worse.
I was not hiding from your father.
I was hiding because your father threatened to destroy you if I ever returned.
I looked at Arthur.
“Is this true?”
He didn't answer.
I continued.
Brendan was never supposed to hurt you.
He was supposed to expose your father.
My eyes widened.
But Brendan became greedy.
He stopped following the plan.
He wanted the company for himself.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
I tried to stop him.
I looked at Jessica's notebook.
Project Glasshouse.
My mother had created it.
But Brendan had turned it into something else.
Something crueler.
The final paragraph was short.
Come to the old Hartwell estate alone.
Bring no security.
Come tonight.
If you want to know why your father erased me from your life, you must hear it from me.
There was no signature.
There didn't need to be.
I knew the handwriting now.
I had seen it once in an old birthday card.
A card my father had told me came from a distant relative.
It hadn't.
It had come from my mother.
I folded the letter.
Arthur immediately said:
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You don't even know what I'm going to say.”
“I know exactly what you're going to say.”
“I have to go.”
“You cannot go alone.”
“She asked me to.”
“She may be setting a trap.”
I stared at him.
“Everyone has been setting traps for me.”
“Exactly.”
“So why should I keep hiding?”
Arthur's voice softened.
“Because you're pregnant.”
I placed one hand over my stomach.
“I know.”
“Because you're the heir to Bennett Holdings.”
“I know.”
“Because people are willing to kill for what you own.”
I looked at him.
“Then I need to know who they are.”
The Old Estate
At 10:30 p.m., I stood outside the gates of the old Hartwell estate.
I had not been there since I was seven.
The house looked smaller than I remembered.
Or perhaps I had simply grown.
Snow had begun falling.
The gate opened.
I walked inside.
No guards.
No cars.
No lights except one glowing window on the second floor.
I entered.
The front door was unlocked.
My heart pounded.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
I walked through the hallway.
Old photographs covered the walls.
My father.
My mother.
Me.
Three people smiling.
A family.
A lie.
Then I heard footsteps.
I turned.
A woman stood at the top of the staircase.
Older.
Thinner.
Her hair streaked with silver.
But her eyes—
I knew those eyes.
My mother's eyes.
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then she whispered:
“Cassidy.”
I couldn't move.
Neither could she.
Twenty years disappeared in one second.
My voice broke.
“Mom?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Yes.”
I took one step forward.
Then another.
“Why?”
She began crying.
“I wanted to come home.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“Because your father wouldn't let me.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the dark hallway behind her.
“Because he knew what I had discovered.”
“What?”
She stared at me.
“The truth about Richard Vale.”
I felt cold.
“What happened to him?”
My mother wiped her tears.
“He wasn't murdered.”
“Then what?”
“He was betrayed.”
“By whom?”
She looked directly at me.
“By the man you trusted most.”
I swallowed.
“My father?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Then she whispered:
“Arthur.”
I froze.
Behind me, somewhere in the darkness of the hallway, a floorboard creaked.
My mother looked terrified.
“He followed you.”
I turned.
The hallway was empty.
Then the lights went out.
And my mother's voice came through the darkness.
“Cassidy…”
“Yes?”
“Run.”
A door slammed somewhere behind me.
My heart stopped.
And for the first time that night, I realized the woman who had summoned me here—
May you like
might not have been trying to bring me closer to the truth.
She might have been trying to save my life.
